'Excellent,' said Pendergast, taking a moment to scribble. 'This is just the sort of thing I'm looking for. Anything else?'
Encouraged, Gregg went on. 'There's always talk of a giant alligator in the swamp. Most of the southern swamps have similar legends, as I'm sure you know. And sometimes they turn out to be true--there was an alligator shot in Lake Conroe over in Texas a few years back that was over twenty-three feet long. It was eating a full-grown deer when it was killed.'
'Amazing,' said Pendergast. 'So if one wanted to visit Spanish Island, how would one go about it?'
'It's marked on the older maps. Problem is, getting there's a whole different deal, with all the mazes of channels and mud bars. And the cypresses are thick as thieves deep in there. During low water, there's a growth of ferns and brambles shooting up that are well-nigh impassable. You just can't go straight through to Spanish Island. Frankly, I don't think anyone's been out there in years. It's deep in the refuge, no fishing or hunting allowed, and it's hell getting in and out of there. I would strongly advise against it.'
Pendergast shut the steno book and rose. 'Thank you very much, Pastor. This is all very helpful. May I contact you again if necessary?'
'Certainly.'
'Very good. I'd give you one of my cards but I'm fresh out. Here's my telephone number, if you need to call. I'll be sure to send you the book when it's published.'
Getting back into the Rolls, Hayward asked, 'What now?'
'Back to our friends in Malfourche. We have unfinished business there.'
64
THEY ARRIVED IN THE SAME PARKING LOT, AND parked in the same dusty spot. The same group of men were still down at the docks, and once again they all turned and stared. As he and Hayward got out of the car, Pendergast murmured, 'Continue to allow me to handle the situation, if you please, Captain.'
Hayward nodded, slightly disappointed. She had been half hoping that one of the good old boys would step over the line so she could bust his ass and haul him in.
'Gentlemen!' said Pendergast, striding toward the group. 'We are back.'
Hayward felt a fresh cringe.
The fat one--Tiny--stepped forward and waited, arms crossed.
'Mr. Tiny, my associate and I would like to rent an airboat to explore the swamp. Are any available?'
To Hayward's surprise, Tiny smiled. A number of glances were exchanged in the crowd.
'Sure, I can rent you an airboat,' said Tiny.
'Excellent! And a guide?'
Another exchange of glances. 'Can't spare a guide,' Tiny said slowly, 'but I'd be right glad to show you where to go on a map. Got 'em for sale inside.'
'Specifically, we're hoping to visit Spanish Island.'
A long silence. 'No problem,' said Tiny. 'Come on round to the private dock on the other side, where we keep the boats, and we'll set you up.'
They followed the immense man around behind the structure to the commercial dock on the other side. Half a dozen sad-looking airboats and bass boats sat in their slips. Pendergast, pursing his lips, looked them over briefly, selecting the newest-looking airboat.
Half an hour later, they were in the fourteen-foot airboat, Pendergast at the wheel, moving into Lake End. As they came into open water, Pendergast throttled up, the propeller making a roaring sound, the boat skimming across the water. The town of Malfourche, with its shabby docks and sad, crooked buildings, slowly vanished into a light mist that clung to the surface of the lake. The FBI agent, in his black suit and brilliant white shirt, looked ludicrously out of place in the cockpit of the airboat.
'That was easy,' Hayward said.
'Indeed,' Pendergast replied, glancing across the surface of the water. Then he looked at her. 'You realize, Captain, that they had prior news of our arrival?'
'What makes you think that?'
'One might expect a certain hostility to wealthy customers arriving in a Rolls-Royce. But the level of hostility was so specific, and so immediate, that one must conclude they were expecting us. Judging from the message gouged into my car, they believed we were environmentalists.'
'You did say we were birders.'
'They get birders here all the time. No, Captain: I'm convinced they thought we were environmental bureaucrats, or perhaps government scientists, masquerading as birders.'
'A case of mistaken identity?'
'Possibly.'
The boat skimmed the brown waters of the lake. As soon as the town had vanished completely, Pendergast turned the boat ninety degrees.
'Spanish Island is west,' said Hayward. 'Why are we heading north?'
Pendergast pulled out the map Tiny had sold him. The fat man's scribblings and dirty thumbprints were all over it. 'I asked Tiny to indicate every route into Spanish Island that he knew. Clearly, those fellows know the swamp better than anyone else. This map should prove most useful.'
'Please don't tell me you're going to trust that man.'
